


Timeless

by RedShiloh



Category: The Hobbit RPF
Genre: M/M, Movie AU, Soulmate AU, TiMER AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-01 14:44:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedShiloh/pseuds/RedShiloh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where timers exist, counting down the days until you meet your soulmate… it figures that Dean’s timer would be faulty and has stayed blank since he had it installed on his sixteenth birthday.</p><p>A story on learning when to love and when to just let it go. (AU based on the film Timer)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wow another WIP that is exactly what I need to be doing.... But this story won't be too long, roughly about 6 chapters I reckon so it won't take long to write at all.
> 
> This is based on the film Timer, it's a lovely little film with an absolutely brilliant soulmate premise (I'm a sucker for soulmate AUs). However you don't have to have watched the film to read this fic. In fact, if you have watched the film, don't expect this fic to go in the same direction at all. I was about 0% happy with the end of that film so this is going to end very very differently.

Dean’s sitting in a trendy bar sipping on a rum and coke and trying very hard not to get angry about the fact that Luke is almost twenty minutes late. It’s not the first time Luke’s been late, so Dean made a point of arranging to meet a half hour earlier than necessary, but regardless, it’s still a point of contention.

Dean hates tardiness, in normal circumstances it would be a deal breaker, but… well… these circumstances aren’t exactly normal. Nothing about Dean’s life is normal circumstances and really there’s only one deal breaker that counts.

A waitress approaches his table and, seeing that his drink is low, asks if he’d like another. At first Dean refuses, but then on second thought, he says yes. The waitress smiles sympathetically and walks away, leaving Dean alone again. There’s a bowl of popcorn sitting in the centre of the table, it’s likely been sitting there all day but Dean’s feeling restless so he pops a kernel into his mouth if just to give him something to focus on. It’s salty and stale, not in the least bit pleasant.

He checks his watch; Luke is now twenty two minutes late. He has exactly eight minutes before things get dire and Dean starts getting really angry.

Then Dean turns his wrist over to look at his _other_ clock. The one tattooed on the inside of his right wrist, his timer. It’s completely blank, just a series of dashes flashing like the unset timer on a VCR. It’s the bane of Dean’s entire existence, to be honest; it always has been ever since he had it installed on his sixteenth birthday all those years ago.

However today, fingers crossed, all that is going to change.

Luke enters the bar then, just as the waitress is bringing Dean’s second drink. Luke gives Dean a sheepish wave, sidling past the waitress to take a seat at Dean’s table.

“Hi babe,” he says, shrugging out of his jacket and leaning over to give Dean a brief, mildly harried kiss. “Sorry I’m late, traffic was a nightmare.”

Dean smiles and nods because he’s not going to get angry, not today, not yet anyway. “Don’t get too comfortable,” he says. “We need to leave like…” he checks his watch, his normal wrist watch. “…now.”

“But what about your drink?”

In answer, Dean picks the drink up and downs it then he sets the empty glass on the table with a grimace.

“Never mind,” Luke says, arching an eyebrow.

“You can drive,” Dean says, climbing to his feet and patting Luke on the shoulder.

* * *

 

Luke is handsome, and really, if he turns out to be Dean’s One then he wouldn’t mind at all. He’s nice enough, he’s not terrible to spend time with (he’s a hell of a lot better than some of Dean’s exes that’s for sure) and the lateness thing… well that’s only a small issue in the grand scheme of things. And perhaps Luke would learn to be punctual if they did turn out to be each other’s Ones.

These are the things that Dean thinks about on their drive to the Centre.

He promised himself he wasn’t going to get his hopes up but, like every other time, he’s failed miserably. He just wants so desperately to find his One. He’s thirty two now, sixteen years has been long enough, hasn’t it? His timer can’t stay blank forever… can it?

Dean is pulled from his internal musings as they turn into the parking lot outside the Centre. The modern looking building rises up before them. Tall and sleek with tinted windows that reflect the sun and large, glass doors that open onto a large open plan room that reminds Dean vaguely of a giant apple store.

Dean risks a glance over at Luke as he pulls into a free space, noticing that Luke looks quite nervous, his grip on the steering wheel just that little bit too tight.

“Are you ok?” Dean asks, resting a hand on Luke’s knee and squeezing.

Luke bobs his head. “Yeah.” He looks at Dean and smiles. “Yeah, sure… piece of cake, right?”

“You don’t have to go in if you don’t want to. If you’ve changed your mind we could just forget about it,” Dean says, even though he really, really hopes Luke won’t change his mind. They’ve been together just over two months now… Dean has to know if he’s going to allow himself to get any more invested.

“Nah, I mean, it’s like you said isn’t it. It’s better to know right?” Luke laughs nervously and puts on the handbrake then he switches the engine off, leaving them sitting there in the silent car. “I don’t really know why I haven’t bothered getting it done before.”

“It’s better to know,” Dean assures him with a comforting smile. “It takes that edge of doubt away… you never know, tonight we could be celebrating being each other’s Ones.” Dean hopes, God does he hope.

“Ok.” Luke nods his head with growing resolve, eyeing the building through the windscreen. “Ok let’s do this.”

* * *

 

The technician behind the front desk smiles widely as they approach. She’s dressed in a blue polo shirt with the Timer Inc logo appliqued on the top right pocket along with her name, Tammy. Her hair is tied up in a ponytail that bounces and sways every time she moves her head and she’s holding a bright yellow clipboard to her chest.

“Mr. O’Gorman, welcome back!” she beams. Luke glances at him, obviously about to ask why she knows him by name but Dean only shakes his head and gives Tammy a tight smile. Tammy turns her attention to Luke, “Oh and who is this, another first timer?” Her smile widens at her own pun.

“Yeah, we’ve got an appointment booked for half past?” Dean says. Tammy looks down at her clipboard.

“There you are! Mr. Evans is it?” She waits until Luke nods, then she continues. “Ok well they’re all set up for you in room two so if you just head on through, Mr. O’Gorman you know the drill.”

Dean tries not to flinch too much at her enthusiastic reminder of just how many times he’s gone through this, and then starts walking down to room two.

“You know the drill?” Luke questions, rushing to keep up with him. Dean shrugs a little uncomfortably.

“I might have been here once or twice with a few other people.”

“Just how many ‘other people’ are we talking about here?”

“God I don’t know, does it matter? I’m here with you now, so…” Dean stops right outside room two. “Here we are!” he says with forced brightness. “Shall we?”

Still frowning, Luke steps inside.

They call it a room, but in reality it’s just an area of the much bigger main room partitioned off with a wall of curtains. Inside is a large chair not unlike those you find in a dentist’s, two stools, one for the installer and one for whoever happens to be providing moral support, and, of course, a desk filled with installation devices.

Luke eyes the devices warily,  they look like guns, only instead of bullets, they’re filled with needles. “You did say this wasn’t going to hurt, right?”

“Not much,” Dean says. When Luke looks sharply at him he sighs. “It’s like… have you ever been bitten by a spider?”

“Yes! It bloody hurt!”

“Ok not like that… I don’t know. Most people say it’s like a normal tattoo… it stings a bit but it’s tolerable.” Dean takes hold of Luke’s hands and looks at him very seriously because he really does care about Luke; he’s quite fond of him actually. “It’s not too late to change your mind. You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I don’t mind.”

Luke stares at Dean, his frown easing until finally he shakes his head. “I want to do this,” he says.

“Good.” Then, because that may have been slightly too blunt and Luke’s beginning to frown again, Dean kisses him and guides him to sit in the big chair.

It’s then that the installer arrives appearing just as bright and cheerful as the technician with the name Jerry appliqued to his shirt. Dean, by a matter of divine grace, does not recognise this installer at least.

“Ok, so today’s the big day huh?” Jerry grins at Luke as he picks up one of the installation devices and starts prepping it almost immediately. It buzzes and whirrs and beeps to life as it starts charging up. “You’re quite late, most people can’t wait to have them done but better late than never, eh? So are you a righty or a lefty?”

“Right,” Luke says.

“Ok, good! It’s best to use your dominant hand, you see, less likely for things to go wrong.” Jerry takes Luke’s right wrist and wipes the inside of it down with an alcoholic wipe. “So your friend here, does he already have one?”

“Yeah,” Luke turns to Dean. Mutely, Dean holds up his right wrist to reveal the flashing dashes. Jerry’s eyes take on that brief expression most people get when they see Dean’s wrist, one that’s kind of a mixture of horror and sympathy along with faint relief that it’s not them.

“Oh…” Jerry, to his credit, recovers quickly. “Well here’s hoping today will be both of your lucky days, hey?” he says, his smile returning full wattage.

Once Luke’s wrist is prepped, Jerry picks up the now charged device and holds it just above Luke’s skin. “You know what to expect, right? Little bit of pain but not too bad… it’s worth it.”

Luke nods tightly, his left hand gripping onto the arm rest of the chair in preparation. Dean stands by Luke, squeezing his left bicep to provide some kind of comfort as he watches Jerry lower the device until it’s pressed against the delicate skin of the inside of Luke’s wrist.

“Ok then, one… two… three!” Jerry pulls the trigger and there’s a buzz of energy as a dozen tiny needles inject the device under Luke’s skin.

“Jesus!” Luke’s jaw tenses and he squeezes his eyes shut and Dean strokes his arm, feeling otherwise entirely useless.

Then, just as soon as it began, it’s over and Jerry’s wiping down the device and setting it aside, still smiling.

Both Luke and Dean look down at Luke’s wrist as the timer flashes to life. First, there is nothing but the same blinking dashes as Dean’s wrist. Then, suddenly, numbers appear as the timer starts counting up. Dean can’t help but hold his breath as he looks at his own wrist. _Please change,_ he thinks. _Please please change._

Nothing happens. Dean’s wrist remains just as blank as before and Luke’s numbers finally slow to a stop.

“Two years, twenty nine days, sixteen hours, forty nine minutes and seven seconds,” Luke reads aloud. He looks up at Dean with a laugh, but then he stops when he realises the implications. He looks down at Dean’s wrist, registering the dashes, then he looks back up at Dean, his expression somewhat stricken.

“Oh Dean I’m sorry,” he begins.

“Hey no,” Dean tries to smile even though his heart feels like it’s taking yet another beating. Every time. Every damn time he allows himself to hope and every damn time he gets hurt. “It’s ok, I’m happy for you, really.”

“I mean it’s still a while away. We could still…”

“Really?” Dean says, a little sharper than intended because he really doesn’t need any kind of pity dates right now. He knows that the second those numbers showed up on Luke’s wrist, any hope of the two of them went out the window.

Jerry watches the two of them, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “I’m gonna… go outside now. You guys can just sort the bill up front when you’re ready, ok?” Neither responds and Jerry slips quickly out of the room, leaving them alone.

“So that’s it?” Luke asks. “It’s over just like that?”

“I’m not sure what else it could be other than over,” Dean sighs.

“You were the one that wanted me to get this damn thing.”

“Because you should get it! Because your One is out there, and they’ve likely been waiting for you for years just like me and if you hadn’t got it then they never would have known and it wouldn’t have been fair, it would have been cruel!” Dean stops dead, realising that he’s said too much and he flushes bright red as he steps away from Luke, his eyes going down to the floor.

Luke stares at him dumbfounded. “Hey,” he says softly and it’s probably one hundred times worse that Luke is being sympathetic to him, it was easier when he was angry. “You’ll find your One, ok? You will.”

“Sure.” Dean laughs humourlessly. Luke climbs up from the chair and pulls Dean into a hug.

“I mean it, if anyone deserves to find them, it’s you. Don’t lose hope, ok?”

Don’t lose hope; it’s the same thing everyone has been telling him every day of his life since he was sixteen. Frankly he’s getting very tired of trying not to lose hope.

“It’s fine,” Dean says not meaning a word of it. He pulls out of the hug and holds out a hand. “It’s been nice, yeah?”

Luke takes his hand and shakes it; he looks at Dean with lingering regret. “It has,” he says. “You know, I would have been happy. If you’d been my one.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” Dean says. “But I’m not your One. I’m no one’s One.”

* * *

 

By the time Dean makes it home he’s feeling thoroughly depressed and would like nothing better than to hole up in his room for the evening and nurse his latest wounds with a bottle of rum and some dumb movie, preferably with explosions, lots of explosions.

Unfortunately, fate has other things in mind for him.

“Oh hey, you’re home early! How did it go?” Adam, his flatmate and long-time best friend is curled up on the couch flicking through panel show reruns on the television as Dean steps through the front door.

In answer, Dean holds up his right wrist with a grim smile. Adam tuts sympathetically.

“Oh no, I’m sorry Dean, I really thought he’d be the one for you.”

“No you didn’t.”

“No you’re right I didn’t, he had an awful sense of humour he was never going to be your One,” Adam admits. “But I’d hoped he would be, for your sake.”

Dean nudges Adam’s feet off the couch and sinks down next to him, rolling his head back and sighing.

“So what was his time?” Adam asks tentatively, he’s lowered the sound on the television so it’s only a quiet murmur of background noise.

“Two years, give or take. It’s a nice time… not far away, not too soon. He could have himself sorted with a job and house by then.”

Adam looks down at his own timer, it’s set for forty years from now, meaning Adam will be the ripe old age of seventy one before he ever meets his One.

“So I’m guessing he’s not going to the party tonight then?”

Dean groans and shuts his eyes. He’d completely forgotten about the party they’d been invited to. It’s hosted by their friend Richard and his One, Lee. They’d found each other a month ago and had been inseparable and absolutely delirious with happiness ever since. They’d only just managed to pry themselves off each other long enough to arrange the party now. It’s not that Dean isn’t happy for them, because he is, really he is, but the thought of surrounding himself with happy, contented Soul mates for a whole evening sounds absolutely torturous to him right now.

“We promised we’d go,” Adam reminds Dean softly even as he squeezes Dean’s shoulder sympathetically. “Plus I’m in exactly the same boat as you really… we can be miserable singletons together.”

Dean rolls his head to look at Adam. They share a smile and Dean nods.

“Ok,” he says, hauling himself up from the couch. “Do you want a drink while we get ready?”

“It’ll mean we have to walk or call a taxi,” Adam starts to say, then he pulls a face and waves it away. “Oh go on then.”

* * *

 

They decide to walk because Richard’s isn’t that far and both of them are running low on cash, it’s that time of the month.

When they’re halfway there, Adam suddenly realises that they’ve forgotten to bring anything with them.

“We can’t turn up empty handed!” he exclaims. “God I’m not going to be _that_ wanker, come on, let’s just stop in here and get them a bottle of wine or something.” Adam nods his head to a small Tescos Extra across the road and starts dragging Dean towards it, Dean allows himself to be dragged and only scuffs his feet a little.

Neither of them are wine connoisseurs, but they know that Richard is, and they peruse the drinks aisle with painful attentiveness, reading each of the dates and labels in turn like that’ll give them some kind of clue on what’s good wine.

“Which is better, Californian or Australian?” Adam asks as he picks up a bottle of red with a bunch of grapes on the label.

“Haven’t a clue mate.”

“What about New Zealand?”

Dean shrugs and Adam scoffs in disgust.

“You’re supposed to be from there, how can you not know?”

“The limit of my wine knowledge is if it tastes like vinegar then it’s probably bad.” He picks up a bottle of merlot and reads the label. “How about this one? It’s on special, reduced from thirty to twenty, that’s kind of expensive so it should be good, right?”

“It’s French too, that’s posh isn’t it?” Adam slips a ten pound note into Dean’s free hand, he’s distracted by something over Dean’s shoulder and when Dean looks he spots an older gentleman perusing the champagnes. “You pay I’ve got to go do something.”

Dean gives Adam a knowing smirk and raises his eyebrows. “He’s probably got someone already,” Dean points out but Adam shakes his head.

“No I just saw his timer, it’s still counting down.” He gives Dean a devilish smile and then casually drifts down the aisle to stand close to the gentleman under the guise of inspecting the Chardonnays.

Leaving his friend to it, Dean walks to the checkout. There’s only one register open and he waits patiently behind a young mother trying to juggle between handling a fussing one year old and counting out her money.

As he waits, Dean’s eyes drift to the man behind the register. He’s cute, young with dark curly hair and friendly eyes that crease at the corners when he flashes the woman a winning smile. Out of habit, Dean’s attention goes to the man’s inner wrists. He catches sight of the faint glow of the timer on his right wrist, it’s already counting down.

Heart sinking, and feeling a little self-conscious about just how desperate he’s gotten that he’s checking out randoms in Tescos, Dean looks away.

The woman finishes paying and carries her squawking child outside along with her bags and then it’s Dean’s turn. He places the wine on the conveyor belt and gives the man a pleasant smile.

The man seems to give him a double take and then his smile widens and Dean’s been dating long enough to know just what that look means.

“Evening,” the young man says.

“Evening,” Dean replies to be polite, even while internally he’s telling himself, _he has a timer, don’t even go there._

“Big night planned?” the young man asks as he scans the wine.

“Yeah, we’re going to a party.”

“We?”

“My friend. He’s uh… somewhere.” Dean waves a hand, gesturing the rest of the shop. As he does so, he notices the man’s eyes trailing over the blank dashes on his wrist and he quickly pulls his sleeve down, feeling briefly embarrassed.

“Oh right well that’ll be fun. Wish I had a party to go to,” the man says and Dean has no idea if he’s angling for an invite or something. Not willing to ask, he merely shrugs and continues smiling.

“My name’s Aidan,” says the young man. “What’s yours?” He still hasn’t removed the alarmed tag from the neck of the bottle and Dean’s beginning to feel distinctly awkward hovering here waiting. He’s relieved there’s no one waiting behind him.

“Uh… Dean,” he replies.

Aidan smiles and it really is a very lovely smile, it lights up his whole face, unfortunately. _Timer,_ Dean reminds himself. _Timer, Timer,Timer_

“It’s very nice to meet you, Dean.” Aidan removes the security tag and slides the bottle into a bag, then he takes the cash Dean hands him and rings it up on the til. “This might be forward, but any chance I could have your number?” he says as he hands Dean his change and his receipt.

Dean almost chokes, he feels his cheeks flush and he stares at Aidan open mouthed and looking embarrassingly like a startled fish until he stutters out, “Your… you have a timer.”

Aidan looks down at the numbers flashing on his wrist like he’d forgotten about them and then he shrugs almost with distaste. “Does it matter?” he asks.

“Yes!” Dean yelps. “It matters, it’s a count down, you know.”

“I know. I’ve still got another year at least… that’s plenty of time, isn’t it?”

“For what? I don’t… I don’t do that.” Dean feels the flush spreading to the tips of his ears but this time it’s from anger as opposed to embarrassment. He stares hard at Aidan as he pockets his change and picks up the bag of wine. Aidan’s eyes soften as he registers Dean’s offence.

“Oh hey, look I wasn’t meaning it like that. I just meant you seem nice, you know? I’d like to get to know you a little better.”

“Well, thanks but no thanks,” Dean says. He glances around, desperate for Adam to show his face so they can get the hell out of there. Only Adam is nowhere to be seen, obviously he’s struck it lucky with the older guy. Aidan looks like he’s about to say something else but Dean doesn’t feel inclined to hear it so he gives him a tight nod and  strides outside, resolving to wait for Adam across the street.

* * *

 

“Well maybe it wouldn’t hurt to do that kind of thing,” Adam says later when Dean recounts the incident to him on the way to Richard’s. Dean levels Adam with his most cynical look, because really.

“What?” Adam continues. “It’s not like it’s cheating… it’s not!” He squawks when Dean continues to stare at him. “Honestly Dean, some of the ideas you’ve got in that head of yours… it beggars belief sometimes.”

“Even if it’s not like cheating—which it kind of is. What’s the point in it? I’m only going to risk falling for him knowing that it’d never work out. We’d be starting something already knowing there’s an expiry date.”

“A, it’s not cheating and I resent the implications. B, that’s the point! You don’t _start something,_ it’s just a bit of fun! God Dean, you don’t know how freeing it can be sometimes being able to have sex without any strings. Sex with timers is the greatest thing, way better than trying to deal with the timerless ones.” Adam rolls his eyes and groans at the very thought of it. “They’re so filled with anxiety and self-doubt it’s awful, I don’t know how you put up with it.”

“Because I want to find my One, that’s why I put up with it,” Dean says sullenly. Adam looks at his friend and then takes hold of his arm, pulling him to a halt. When Dean looks back at him Adam’s expression is filled with sadness and he tilts his head to the side, stroking his hand up and down Dean’s arm.

“I hate seeing you like this,” Adam confesses softly. “I wish you’d learn to just enjoy life now and not worry about these silly little timers.”

 Dean looks away, wanting to shrug Adam off but also feeling worryingly close to tears. He wishes he could stop being like this, he really does. He wishes he could be more like Adam. Oftentimes he’s felt envious of his friend and the carefree way he leads his life. It’s never seemed to bother Adam that his timer is set so far in the future, in fact Adam seems to revel in it enjoying a string of carefree flings. He seems happy; Dean honestly doesn’t understand why he couldn’t be more like him.

“I’m trying,” he says honestly, quietly. “Really I am, Ads.”

Adam pulls Dean into a hug. Dean resists just for a moment, then he sinks into the hug, wrapping his arms around his best friend, Adam really does give the best hugs.

“Come on,” Adam says eventually, pulling back to look at Dean. “Let’s just forget about all this stupid timer rubbish, go to this party and get blind stinking drunk.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Bonnie and Heather who are the most awesome and supportive and listened to me whine and mope my way through a writing downer. <3
> 
> There's smut in this chapter. idk I was going to fade to black but changed my mind.

When Dean and Adam arrive at Richard’s, they’re greeted with a wide smile and a back smacking hug and a ‘so happy you both could make it’ from both Richard and Lee.

It’s rarely ever just Richard or Lee anymore, it’s almost always Richard _and_ Lee, they seem to have merged together into one entity ever since they found each other. It would be annoying if they weren’t so precious together.

 They circle round their guests, both shining with that special glow newly forged soulmates always carry, neither letting the other out of their sight for longer than a few minutes, exchanging tiny touches and small, secret smiles.

Dean can recall the day Richard’s timer had finally hit zero. He’d been an absolute nervous wreck.

The thing with timers is that once they hit zero, it’s not like you’re going to immediately come face to face with your One. Day zero, that’s what people call it. There’s an extra twenty four hour window. When your timer hits zero, you don’t know if it’ll be the first person you see when you turn around, or the last one you see before you go to sleep. But once you hit Day Zero, you know it’s going to happen. And when it happens, there’s no mistaking it.

Dean and Adam had stayed with Richard for the entirety of his Day Zero. They had to just to keep the poor man from going insane.

They were there when Richard finally, finally laid eyes on Lee. They were there to see it happen, what it looks like when you meet your One.

One minute Richard had been half listening to their rousing game of ‘ _would you rather…_ ’, his knee bouncing a frantic staccato under the table. And the next, he’d frozen, his eyes growing impossibly wide as he’d sat up, staring across the room at an equally as stunned Lee.

Adam had trailed off halfway through weighing up the benefits of hands for feet versus feet for hands and nudged Dean, catching his attention. Then they’d watched in silence as Richard had risen slowly to his feet and crossed the small café towards Lee. They didn’t kiss, that wasn’t Richard’s style, neither was it Lee’s style apparently. But rather they just stood in front of each other, staring at each other with these ridiculous, gleeful grins as they’d introduced themselves.

“That’s it?” Adam had commented with mild disappointment. “I was kind of expecting there to be fireworks or something.”

Dean had stayed quiet, watching the both of them and feeling happy for his friend but at the same time feeling that empty ache of missing his One.

There’s a lot of people at the party, Richard and Lee have a lot of friends, some of which Dean knows, others are a complete mystery to him. He and Adam have stuck true to their word and have been knocking back a steady stream of drinks all night. Dean’s beginning to feel rather punch drunk which is good. It glosses over the pain of having to make small talk with people he rarely sees and will likely never see again. Also, it takes away the sting of having to explain over and over that no, he still hasn’t found his One, yes his timer is still blank, and that no, he’s pretty sure it’s not faulty, it’s just one of those things.

At one point some guy comes up to him, Dean forgets his name but he’s pretty sure he hates him, and jokes that perhaps Dean should try turning it off then on again. Dean laughs along and downs the rest of his punch and tells the man very pleasantly that he has to be somewhere else right now, preferably somewhere that isn’t there.

Now, he’s just hovering by the drinks table and watching the natural rotation of the crowds.

Adam wanders over holding a paper plate stacked with mini quiches and pizza slices and other assorted finger foods. He’s shovelling a crispy wonton into his mouth when he sidles up next to Dean, leaning against the wall.

“No one at this party is single,” Adam bemoans around the wonton.

Dean hums and steals a mini quiche from Adam’s plate and Adam swipes half-heartedly at him.

“That guy,” Adam points someone out across the room; it’s the same guy that had been making the faulty timer jokes, “is a wanker. I pity his One.”

“What’d he do?” Dean can’t say he disagrees, but he’s curious about Adam’s reasons for hating him.

“Made some crack about me needing a Zimmer frame by the time my countdown ends. I told him I’d rather die alone than find out someone like him was my One.”

Dean snorts and Adam bites into a celery stick triumphantly.

There’s a small makeshift dance floor set up in one corner of the living room where couches have been pushed aside and the coffee table pressed up against the wall and there’s a few people dancing badly to whatever pop song happens to be playing at that moment in time.

Neither Adam nor Dean have any inclination of going anywhere near there, they’re not that drunk, but Dean finds some amusement in watching the people who are. Some of the moves being thrown out remind Dean of his father after he’s finished his fifth sherry cooler at Christmas.

That’s when Dean sees him. He has to do a double take at first, uncertain if it’s actually him. But there’s no mistaking that jawline and those blue eyes.

It’s Jared, Dean’s ex. His big ex. The one he did most of his learning and hurting from, the one he may still not be completely over.

Jared’s dancing somewhat terribly with a huge smile on his face that suggests he knows exactly how foolish he looks but he doesn’t care. He laughs as he throws up peace eyes and spins around, then he sinks down to the floor, holding his nose in a very pantomimed version of _the swim_ move. Dancing next to him is a woman with long chestnut hair and pale green eyes. She’s pretty, the kind of pretty that makes you painfully aware of everything that you yourself are lacking. But that’s not the worst of it, as she takes Jared’s hand and lets him spin her away from him then draws her back in to his chest, Dean spots the prominent swell of her pregnant belly.

“Oh God,” Dean groans and tries to duck down behind Adam. Adam, having no idea what Dean is doing, looks at him like he’s mad and pushes him away.

“Dean what the hell?”

Wordlessly, Dean points across the room. It takes Adam a moment to work out exactly where he’s pointing, but when he does, his eyebrows go up and he presses his lips together, looking back at Dean.

“If it helps he’s dancing like the whitest guy in the room,” Adam volunteers. It doesn’t help, not really.

“I can’t let him see me,” Dean mutters feeling vaguely sick at the notion. He furtively tries to sink down lower, angling himself so he’s obscured by the crowds, but even as he does this, he can’t quite tear his eyes from the two of them.

They look so happy dancing together, their smiles so open and genuine. They’re the real deal, the kind of thing you can’t fake. Dean knows that he should be happy for Jared, but a selfish part of him remembers a time when he used to be the one to make Jared smile like that. Another jealous part of him, the ugly insecure part the he generally never likes to admit to, wonders if he’d ever been able to give Jared a smidgen of the happiness he now shares with this woman.

“Dean, come on this is a little ridiculous,” Adam says as Dean ducks and dives around him. “He works with Richard; it’s not that surprising that he’d be here, would it be so bad if you spoke to him again?”

 _Yes_ , Dean thinks. “I just can’t deal with it tonight, Adam, not like this…” Not when Jared’s so obviously happy with everything he’s ever wanted and Dean’s so obviously… not there yet. Not even close.

“Come on then,” Adam says, setting his plate on the drinks table and taking Dean firmly by the hand. Then he’s dragging Dean through the crowds and towards the relative privacy of the back garden.

Before they make it to the French doors, however, someone knocks into Dean, yanking him out of Adam’s grip and Dean feels something icy spill down the back of his neck.

“Christ!” A drunken voice booms. “I didn’t see you there buddy, sorry ‘bout that!” Dean turns around to find the same prick who’d been making the timer jokes looking at him with this wide, shit eating grin. Dean reaches up to feel the back of his neck and his fingers come away soaking wet and stained slightly pink. He lifts them up to his nose and smells something fruity and sweet. Punch, the prick’s just spilt a full glass of Punch down his back.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dean groans, he can feel the cold sticky liquid soaking into his shirt and even the waistband of his trousers, he’s absolutely saturated.

“Hey, you’re the one that ran into me! Maybe watch where you’re going next time.”

“I was nowhere near you, you dick!”

“Cool it, Timeless, what the hell is your problem?”

Dean sees red, he is just about to tell the guy exactly what his problem is when Adam appears, takes one look at Dean’s sorry state, then drags him away into the kitchen.

“What did you do that for?” Dean grumbles, leaning back against the counter as Adam searches the drawers for a hand towel.

“Because you were about to make a scene and I thought that was the last thing you wanted to do.”

“He started it,” Dean says somewhat petulantly.

“And I finished it,” Adam replies primly, sounding every bit the scolding parent. Sometimes Adam can act much older than his thirty one years. Adam gives a triumphant shout when he finds the towel drawer and pulls out an old and ragged looking dish cloth which looks like it won’t matter so much getting stained with punch. Adam turns Dean around so he can see his back and inspect the damage. “You’ll probably need to take your shirt off,” Adam concludes.

Dean glances at the doorway, the sounds of the party drifting through slightly muted.

“Oh come on, no one’s coming through and even if they did, it’s not like you have anything to be ashamed of. Hand it over.”

Dean unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it off his shoulders then hands it over to Adam. Adam quickly gets to work, he finds some salt in one of the overhead cupboards then shakes it onto the worst of the stains whilst he dabs some of the moisture out. While he works, Dean tears off a couple of squares of paper towel and tries to twist his arms around to dry off his back, watching Adam as he works quietly and diligently to remove the stains.

Every time there’s a drink related disaster, be it ruined clothing or red wine on the carpet, Adam’s always been the one who knows just how to set it right. It’s through Adam alone that they haven’t completely forfeited the deposit on their current flat. Dean had asked Adam one time how he’s so good at this kind of thing, _I used to live with drama students,_ had been Adam’s simple answer. Whatever that actually means has remained a mystery to Dean even to this day.

Adam scrubs at the collar of the shirt and frowns. “It’s no good you’re going to have to soak this overnight if you want the stain to come out.”

“What am I going to do for a shirt in the meantime?”

“Richard or Lee should have a spare one lying around… wait here I’ll go ask them.”

Adam sets Dean’s ruined shirt on the draining board and walks out of the kitchen letting the door swing shut behind him and leaving Dean on his own. Dean sits down at the kitchen table resting his head in his arms with a tired sigh. Today has sucked; it has royally and truly sucked.

The door swings open again and Dean looks up fully expecting it to be Adam having forgotten something. Only it’s not Adam, it’s Jared.

Dean’s heart skips a beat and for a few seconds all he can do is stare at Jared, wide eyed and mouth slightly agape like a rabbit trapped in headlights. Then he remembers that he is topless and he jumps up so quickly that he nearly knocks his chair backwards.

“Jared hi,” Dean chokes out, folding his arms somewhat self-consciously over his chest. “Slight mishap with some punch,” he explains.

“I know, I saw,” Jared says, still hovering in the doorway.  “I came to see if you were ok.”

That stings and Dean’s not even certain why it would sting, but it does, the fact that Jared would still show concern over him even after all this time. It should be comforting, but it’s not.

“I’m fine.” Dean turns around under the guise of fussing with his shirt. He can feel the skin on his arms and shoulders prickling and it’s not from the cold. He glances over his shoulder and Jared’s still in the doorway like some great uncomfortable doorstop. “Congratulations, by the way,” he says, not explaining how he knows.

The shadow of a smile pulls at the corners of Jared’s mouth and his eyes soften. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if Richard had told you or…?”

“He hadn’t but it’s fine. She looks lovely.”

“She is. Her name’s Tanya, I think you’d really like her if you got to know her.”

 _Probably_ , Dean thinks, which only kind of makes it worse. “You’ve got a little sprog on the way too hey?”

“Yeah,” Jared laughs and steps further into the room; seemingly relaxing the more he talks. He props himself against the counter close to Dean. “ _Me,_ a dad, can you imagine?”

Dean can imagine all too well. Jared has always wanted kids, had often talked about it when they were lying together in bed in those vulnerable small hours before dawn.

“You’ll make a great dad,” he says.

“I hope so.” Jared clears his throat and shifts position so he’s leaning one hip against the counter. Dean continues to fuss at the shirt, trying to rub the salt into the material. “So, Dean have you…?” Jared doesn’t finish but Dean knows exactly what he’s asking and he surreptitiously tilts his right wrist away out of sight as he continues to scrub at the shirt.

He’s saved from having to actually answer Jared when Adam comes barrelling in clutching one of Richard’s t-shirts and halfway through explaining that this was the best they could find when he spots Jared and stops abruptly.

“Oh,” Adam says. “Hello!”

“Hi,” Jared replies.

 Dean snatches the shirt gratefully from Adam and pulls it on, immediately feeling more comfortable now he’s less exposed.

“Were you two talking? Should I give you a few minutes?” Adam asks tentatively but both Dean and Jared shake their heads emphatically. They both start talking at once.

“No it’s fine we were just…” Jared begins.

“I was just leaving,” Dean finishes.

“Wait, you’re leaving?” Jared asks.

“No you’re not.” Adam frowns.

“Yes,” Dean says. “I am. It’s been a long night at the end of an even longer day, I’ve got fruit punch drying on my neck, I think it’s time I called it a night.”

“Dean,” Adam says with the hint of a whine in his tone and Dean stares him down firmly.

“Adam please. You stay, have fun.”

“You’re not leaving because of me?” Jared asks looking guilty and sheepish.

“No,” Dean says. “Really, I just think I want to sleep.” He smiles at Jared then he looks at Adam, pleading. “I’ll see you at home?”

After a long, silent conversation using just their eyes and emphatic eyebrows which leaves Jared looking between them slightly lost, Adam sighs and throws his hands up.

“Fine whatever, I’ll see you at home.”

Dean squeezes Adam’s shoulder in silent gratitude, vowing he’ll make it up to his friend, and then he ducks out of the kitchen in search of Richard and Lee, carrying his ruined shirt with him.

He finds them having a quiet chat outside in the back garden. They’re saddened to hear he’s leaving, but understanding as Adam’s already debriefed them on all of the night’s events (from the looks of sympathy they shoot him Dean gets the impression Adam’s filled them in on events _not_ related to the party either.) After saying his goodbyes and wishing them a final congratulations, Dean slips out of the party and heads off down the street, headed for home.

The night air is chilled and it refreshes him as he walks. Dean breathes in deeply, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets. Unfortunately, now he has the time to think which at the moment generally never ends well. The longer he has time to think, the more he has time to mope and worry about everything that’s going wrong in his life which is, pretty much, everything.

Dean’s about halfway home when he sees the lights of the Tesco’s Extra and suddenly, his plans of going home and drowning his sorrows in a bowl of ice cream and a game of Halo change.

He marches across the road and through the automatic doors. It’s practically empty at this time of night; the only patrons seem to be a group of giggling, slightly inebriated teenagers and a tired looking man with a coat over his pyjamas browsing through the medicine aisle. Dean marches down the row of checkouts right up to Aidan’s til. Aidan’s still there, luckily, absently ringing up the purchases of the teens who only seem to be buying a vast amount of salt and vinegar crisps, wham bars, and vodka.

“What time do you get off?” Dean asks abruptly, heart pumping with the adrenaline of his last minute decision.

Aidan looks up, startled. “Are you serious?”

“Right now? Yes.”

“Now… now. I get off now” Aidan’s already scrambling out of his seat and throwing out the til closed sign. He points to the bewildered looking teens. “You lot take that shit to the tobacco counter. Russell!” he shouts and waves to a guy stacking shelves down one of the aisles. “Cover me!”

Russell shouts something that’s most likely insulting, but Aidan’s not even listening, he’s already pulled the alarmed belt over his checkout and turned the light off. Then he hops over the alarmed rope, takes Dean by the hand and drags him outside. Dean follows, unable to keep from smiling at Aidan’s obvious exuberance.

“Your place or mine?” Aidan asks.

“Do you live alone?” Dean asks, thinking of Adam.

“No but the flatmate’s away ‘til the end of the week.”

“Yours.”

Aidan doesn’t need any more encouragement. As it turns out, he has a car; a beat up looking little blue Micra with a dent in the bonnet like something heavy’s been dropped on it. Aidan unlocks the passenger side first and Dean climbs in, waiting for Aidan to jog round and hop into the driver’s seat.

Dean sits there in silence as Aidan starts the engine, knees tucked up tight to accommodate for the lack of leg room. This isn’t something he normally does, at all. In fact it’s the complete opposite of what he does, he’s never normally this reckless, nor is he normally this forward. This is both terrifying and unbelievably exciting for him.

Aidan grins at him, then he’s reversing out of the parking lot and pulling into the empty road.

They drive in silence at first, which is weird and kind of awkward. Then Aidan clears his throat and asks, “Do you want some music playing?”

“Sure.”

Aidan switches the radio on and suddenly the car is filled with heavy metal and the dramatic riff of an electric guitar.

“Ah sorry, that’s just a mate’s band.” Aidan hits a button and ejects a CD with ‘rehearsals 04’ written in messy black marker. Aidan tosses it over his shoulder onto the backseat that’s littered with empty soda cans and various items of clothing including a university hoody and a pair of jeans. “See if you can find anything decent on the radio,” Aidan suggests.

Dean flicks through the various stations, skipping past adverts and talking DJs until he finds a relatively auspicious station playing classic rock.

Dean gazes out the window as Aidan drives through town. He knows roughly where they are though he doesn’t usually come around this area often. It’s a student kind of area, which has Dean wondering exactly how old Aidan is.

“So was the party no good then?” Aidan asks suddenly and Dean glances over at him.

“It was ok,” he replies with a shrug.

“I was just wondering what had you changing your mind. You came marching in like you were a man on a mission.”

“I just felt like doing something reckless for a change.”

Aidan smiles at that, even as he flicks on the indicator and turns down a quiet street opposite a small park which is mainly just a football pitch and a couple of battered looking swings. “So I’m ‘something reckless’ am I?”

Dean looks at Aidan, then down at Aidan’s wrist where the numbers are glowing faintly against the steering wheel, the ever constant countdown. “A little bit, yeah.”

Aidan pulls up outside a semidetached house made of red brick with a small front garden and a wrought iron gate. He switches the engine off then turns to Dean. “Here we are,” he says.

They both hop out the car, Aidan pausing just long enough to pop the front of the CD player out and shut it away in the glove compartment. “There’ve been thieves in this area,” he explains. Then he opens the gate and jogs up the garden path with Dean following behind. Dean looks up at the house while he waits for Aidan to sort through his keys. It seems nice enough, there’s no rubbish or traffic cones in the front garden like is normal of student houses and the grass looks freshly mown.

“So how old are you?” Dean asks out of curiosity, although he’s half afraid he’s going to regret asking.

“How old are you?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Not really,” Aidan says. “Do you?”

“Kind of,” Dean admits. Aidan laughs then. He finally finds the right key and unlocks the front door then he swings it open.

“I’m old enough,” he replies, and then he holds out his hand like a butler, inviting Dean inside. “Age before beauty.”

“I could easily change my mind about this, you know,” Dean says even as he steps through the front door.

Aidan hits the light switch behind him, bathing the hall in light. There’s a staircase leading up to the second floor and a long hallway that leads to a kitchen. There are two other doors leading off from the hallway, both of them closed. It’s clean and there’s a pleasant smell in the air. All homes have a certain ‘lived in’ scent to them, the people living in them never notice but guests do. This home smells faintly and not unpleasantly of old smoke, cologne, and cooking spices.

“Are you hungry?” Aidan asks. Dean shakes his head, no. “I am,” says Aidan. “I haven’t had dinner yet, do you mind if I grab something?” Again Dean shakes his head, no he doesn’t mind, and Aidan leads the way into the kitchen.

Someone in the house, either Aidan or his as yet unnamed housemate must be a bit of a kitchen aficionado because there’s a shelf devoted entirely to cookery books and there are blenders and mixers and tools that Dean’s only ever seen in a Lakeland catalogue lining the counters.

Aidan switches the kettle on and grabs two mugs from an overhead cupboard, then he grabs a Pot Noodle from another cupboard, beef and tomato flavour.

“You eat that stuff?” Dean asks wrinkling his nose. He’s only ever eaten pot noodle once when he was severely hungover. He regretted it almost immediately when he threw it back up and has never touched one ever again. “There’s like… nothing nutritional in them. At all.”

“They’re quick and easy,” Aidan says with a shrug and a grin. “My housemate usually leaves something out for me to heat up but since he’s not here… tea?”

“Do you have coffee?”

“I think so. Check that cupboard by your head?”

Dean opens it and finds a jar of Kenco. He opens it and the gold seal’s still intact. “Spoons?” he asks. Aidan pulls open a drawer, grabs a fork for himself and a teaspoon for Dean. Dean pierces the film, then spoons the coffee into one of the mugs.

“Milk?” Aidan asks, grabbing a carton from the fridge and pouring milk into the other mug and popping in a teabag. At Dean’s nod Aidan pours a small measure into Dean’s mug, then he puts it back in the fridge and hip bumps the door shut. All of Aidan’s movements seem slightly frenzied and he hums a tune that Dean can’t quite make out under his breath, banging a tune against the counter and the mugs with his fork. Dean watches, quietly amused.

The kettle boils over and Aidan pours water into the two mugs and fills the Pot Noodle. Then he hands Dean his mug and scoops up his own food and drink.

Once they’re set, Aidan leads Dean down the hallway. He bounds up the stairs taking them two at a time and sloshing tea onto the carpet. Dean follows at a more sedate pace, holding his coffee carefully.

Aidan’s room is the first door on the left and he holds it open for Dean whilst juggling his tea and Pot Noodle so he can hit the light.

Dean stands in the middle of the room for a moment while Aidan sets his food and drink on the bedside table, just taking in Aidan’s room. There’s a few items of clothing draped over a chair in the corner and a guitar and collection of amps propped against one wall, but otherwise, it’s just as neat as the rest of the house. Dean’s not sure what he was expecting, maybe a few dirty plates, a few piles of laundry, some mould of questionable origin growing in months old Tupperware boxes. He’s pleasantly surprised.

“I have to ask,” Dean says, turning to Aidan. “Are you a student?”

Aidan laughs and shakes his head. “No I graduated a few years ago, but the rent’s cheap so we decided to stick around here. Are you surprised?”

“A little,” Dean admits. “I don’t know. I didn’t know what to expect, I barely know you.”

Aidan sits down on the edge of the bed and pats the spot next to him for Dean to join him. Dean sets his mug down next to Aidan’s and flops down onto the mattress and sighs. “I don’t normally do this,” he confesses.

“Me neither.” Aidan grins.

“No really. I never normally do this. Normally I’m… I don’t know.”

Aidan takes Dean’s wrist, the one with his timer and he turns it over so he can kiss the flashing dashes. Aidan’s lips are soft and warm and Dean’s skin tingles under them. “Normally you’ve got a plan.”

Which is actually… very true. Disconcertingly true. Spurred on by this, and his decision that tonight he will be reckless, Dean pulls his wrist free and cups his hand to Aidan’s jaw. Aidan’s skin is soft under the roughness of the stubble. He leans in, tentatively tilting his head and Aidan mimics him and then they’re kissing. As far as first kisses go, it’s good, it’s more than good, it’s lovely. Dean’s eyes slide closed and he twists round on the bed so he’s sitting more comfortably and he deepens the kiss, jarring only slightly until the both of them learn each other’s mouths and rhythm.

“Is this ok?” Aidan asks, pulling back just enough to look at Dean with warm hooded eyes and that question, that small touch of concern does wonders for Dean and he nods his head and kisses Aidan again with such enthusiasm that Aidan ends up lying back on the bed with Dean braced over him, straddling him.

Dean makes a small, involuntary noise into the kiss that sounds embarrassingly needy and desperate and Aidan moans and his hands go up to hold onto Dean’s hips, pulling him down against him. It’s heated and Aidan’s grip is firm, there’s no hesitancy and Dean can feel the building pressure. He can’t help it; he grinds down against Aidan, eliciting another delicious groan that Dean can feel reverberating in his own body.

“Jesus,” Aidan says, accent thickening, voice croaking. “Fuck.” He bucks up against Dean and Dean thrusts down and their mouths are locked together as they breath in short, needy gasps and it’s so hot, it’s the hottest thing Dean’s ever experienced in some time.

All of the events of that day, all of the shit that’s gone wrong, it feels a thousand miles away now and it’s perfect, if Dean could live in this moment forever he would.

His hands seek out the hem of Aidan’s shirt and he’s yanking it up, baring inch after inch of Aidan’s stomach and chest. Aidan lifts his arms and hunches up to help Dean pull it up and over his head then Dean tosses it over his shoulder, not caring where it lands.

He sits back, drinking in the sight of Aidan with a hungry gaze. “Christ you’re gorgeous,” he says. Aidan laughs and there’s a touch of self-consciousness to his expression that Dean finds utterly endearing and he can’t resist ducking down to steal another kiss. His hands are all over Aidan’s torso, stroking over the firm muscles, fingers raking through curly chest hair, absolutely relishing in it.

Then Aidan’s hands are tugging at Dean’s own shirt, inching it up Dean’s back and Dean’s skin feels like it’s on fire everywhere that Aidan’s warm fingers touch.

“Weren’t you wearing another shirt before?” Aidan asks suddenly.

“Yeah,” Dean pants, remembering he left his shirt in Aidan’s car. It’ll likely be ruined if he doesn’t get it in to soak overnight but right now it’s the least of his worries. “Had an accident at the party, some wanker threw drink over me.”

“I thought you felt a bit sticky,” Aidan laughs. He helps Dean out of the shirt then that too is flung somewhere onto the floor, and then they’re sitting there, panting and horny as fuck, Dean straddling Aidan and the both of them topless. “Come here,” Aidan says, looking up at Dean and crooking his finger. Dean bends down, bracing his arms either side of Aidan’s head.

Aidan pulls Dean down lower until his chest is pressed against Aidan’s and Dean can feel Aidan’s hot breath against the side of his neck. Then suddenly he feels something hot and wet that sends electric tingles over his skin and he realises that Aidan just licked him.

“Hmm,” Aidan hums smacking his lips. “Fruit punch.”

Dean sits back, swatting Aidan’s chest and Aidan laughs, bouncing Dean up and down with the hearty chuckles. “You taste delicious,” Aidan wheezes.

  _He looks beautiful when he laughs_ , Dean thinks. It’s a full on belly laugh, he throws his head back and he just lets it out and it must be nice, being so free and open. It’s a sight Dean could easily get used to.

To distract himself, because that’s not the kind of thing you should be thinking on a one night stand, Dean busies himself with the buckle of Aidan’s belt. Aidan sobers quickly and helps Dean pull it free, then Dean slides off of Aidan to allow Aidan to shuck his trousers off. It’s a frenzied, graceless kind of move and Aidan nearly bounces the both of them off the bed in his eagerness, but finally, he’s down to his boxers and Dean swallows at the obvious tenting he can see there. His heart feels like it’s hammering right against his ribs with nerves and excitement.

Aidan turns to Dean, patting him on his hip. “These need to come off too,” he grins. They make quick work of Dean’s trousers, kicking them to the floor, then Aidan crawls over Dean, kissing him as he guides Dean to lie back on the bed.

Aidan’s size towers over Dean, almost drowning him and Dean runs his fingers up the length of his broad arms, feeling the firm curves of his biceps and the way they tremor slightly as they hold Aidan’s weight.

Aidan kisses his way down Dean’s neck to his chest. “You’re fucking gorgeous, Dean,” he says against Dean’s skin but with the thickness of his accent the ‘fucking’ comes out more like ‘foockin’ which makes Dean’s cock twitch. Aidan kisses lower, pressing his lips against the slight softness of Dean’s belly. On a normal day it’s the area of his body that Dean’s least confident about, but with the way Aidan kisses his way over it, worshipping every bit of it, all Dean can think is that it’s really, really fucking hot. “You have no idea how much I wanted to do this to you as soon as I saw you,” Aidan continues, kissing lower until he’s just above the elastic of Dean’s boxer briefs, tantalisingly close to Dean’s cock. “I would’ve taken you there if it wouldn’t have gotten me arrested. Just bent you over the counter and fucked you senseless right there.”

“Fuck,” Dean groans, hips jerking up off the bed. He’s impossibly hard, to the point that it’s painful. Dirty talk has always been a weakness of his, but with Aidan’s brogue, it’s damn near criminal.

“You want me to suck you off?” Aidan asks, looking up at Dean with his brown eyes as he tugs at the waistband of Dean’s pants.

“Yes,” Dean gasps, hands fisting in the sheets and thighs quivering. “Fuck, yes. Yes!”

Aidan chuckles. He wraps his fingers around Dean’s boxers and he tugs them down, pulling them over Dean’s cock and down his thighs. Dean wriggles and lifts his hips to help, then Aidan tosses them on the floor and Dean’s laying there, completely stark bollock naked.

Without warning, Aidan wraps his lips around the head of Dean’s cock and Dean jumps so abruptly that he practically knocks Aidan’s teeth through his bottom lip. Thankfully, his cock and Aidan’s mouth both escape injury. Aidan laughs and lays a firm, steadying hand on Dean’s hips and Dean looks down at him apologetically.

“Sorry,” he gasps, “Wasn’t expecting that.”

Aidan laughs again and licks his lips and thinking where those lips had only just been makes Dean’s balls ache and he whimpers. “Try again, shall we?” Aidan grins. “Need me to tie you down?”

Dean almost sobs. “Please don’t,” he begs, talks of tying down and restraining are not things he needs to be thinking about right now.

Aidan’s grin turns devilish, though he seems to have some mercy as he strokes his fingers over Dean’s hips then he folds them round the base of Dean’s cock and he wraps his mouth around the head, sucking him in.

Dean watches him, completely broken by the sight. Aidan looks so unbelievably hot, his head bobbing up and down over Dean’s cock, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks and his tongue playing over the slit and licking down the base. It’s all too much for Dean to bear and he drops his head back, closing his eyes as he tries to control his thrusting.

He chokes out a strangled cry in warning to Aidan just before he comes and Aidan holds onto him tightly as he swallows him down, working him until he’s sated and his cock is softening. Then, when Dean is too overstimulated and flinching at every touch and stroke, Aidan lets him slide out of his mouth and he crawls his way back up the bed to kiss Dean’s cheek. Dean turns his head at the last minute so Aidan kisses his mouth, Aidan’s briefly startled then he sinks into the kiss.

“That was…” Dean begins breathlessly.

“Yeah,” Aidan agrees with a grin. He’s propped up on his elbow next to Dean and he’s grinding himself in slow languid movements against Dean’s hip and Dean curls his hands around Aidan’s cock through his boxers, fondling him but feeling too boneless, too much like jelly to do anything too strenuous just yet. “Hey I need to ask you something,” Aidan begins a little hesitantly.

“Hmm?”

“How far do you want to go tonight? Like… do you want to go all the way or…?”

Dean considers it for a moment. To be honest he hadn’t really thought about it before, but now… He catches sight of the glow of Aidan’s countdown on his wrist, then he looks down at the dashes on his own wrist.

“I think… maybe just… not all the way?” Dean says quietly. “Is that ok?”

“Sure,” Aidan smiles. He kisses Dean again then wraps a strong arm around Dean’s chest and rolls him over so Dean’s little spoon and Aidan’s big spoon. Dean can feel Aidan’s hardness pressing against him just above his tailbone but Aidan makes no more attempts to thrust against him.

“Don’t you want finishing off?” Dean asks. Aidan shakes his head and hugs Dean closer and Aidan’s chest is an expanse of comforting warmth against Dean’s back.

“In a bit,” Aidan says into Dean’s ear. “Let you get your breath back first… plus I kind of like drawing it out, I like the burn.”

“Kinky bastard,” Dean huffs out a laugh. He holds his hand over Aidan’s, fingers curling around his forearm. He catches sight of the mugs and the Pot Noodle on the bedside table.

“Shit you forgot your dinner.”

“Ah well,” Aidan sighs and kisses Dean just behind his ear. “They’re shit anyway; someone told me there’s like… no nutritional contents in them.”

“Whoever told you that must be really smart,” Dean grins.

“Mmm.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... How about that hiatus? Hah... sorry. It's been practically 2 years since I last updated anything and I'm so sorry about that. Writing has been impossible for me for a long long time. Real life stuff and the old depression thing have been sapping any inspiration and energy. I'd tried repeatedly but it's just been a pointless and frustrating exercise that's usually ended in me fighting the urge to delete everything I've ever written. Then randomly, this story started happening again, and next thing I knew, I had 5k written and it was still going strong. Sooooo here you go. If you still want to read this story then thank you, if not, I honestly don't blame you.

Dean wakes up to birdsong and morning light streaming in through the open blinds. He’s warm and cosy and he can feel the comforting weight of Aidan’s bare chest against his back. There’s a strong arm slung over his stomach and his head is pillowed against Aidan’s shoulder whilst Aidan snores quietly in his ear. Dean sighs contentedly and nestles down under the covers. His mind has not yet caught up with him and he’s allowed, for one brief moment, just to enjoy the feeling of waking up next to someone.

Then, suddenly, it hits him. This someone is not his someone.He opens his eyes and sits up, Aidan’s arm sliding off him. He blinks around himself as if in a daze. “Fuck,” he says, rubbing his eyes.

“What?” Aidan mumbles, voice rough and drowsy.

“It’s morning.”

“So it is.” Eyes still closed, Aidan wraps the arm back around Dean’s waist; pulling him back down under the covers but Dean resists.

“I didn’t mean to stay the night,” Dean says, looking at Aidan over his shoulder.

Aidan rolls onto his back. He cracks open one eye and peers at Dean, scratching his chest lethargically. “Dean… whatever your surname is... Were you planning on doing a midnight run? You heartbreaker.”

“O’Gorman.”

“What?”

“That’s my surname. And no I wasn’t, I just…” This complicates things. Doesn’t it? Dean’s not familiar with the rules. “So what happens now?”

“Now?” Aidan breathes in deeply; he stretches his arms out and makes a small noise in the back of his throat. “What do you mean what happens now?” 

Dean, realising that he’s still naked, slips out of bed and goes in search of his underwear, cupping himself with one hand like that’ll save him his modesty. Like Aidan hasn’t already seen it all the night before.

“I mean what generally happens the morning after. Should I just go? I should just go shouldn’t I?”

“What’s the rush? They’re over there by the way.” Aidan points across the room to where Dean’s underwear is draped over the back of the chair. Dean snatches them up and pulls them on hastily. Once he’s covered, he feels less self-conscious and he makes his way around the room, picking up the rest of his clothes one by one from where they were scattered the night before.

“I like you better naked,” Aidan grins, watching him.

Dean ignores him, hopping on one leg as he tries to wrestle into his jeans. He almost tips over and settles for perching on the edge of the bed. Aidan prods him in the back with his toes.

“Do you have a shirt I could borrow?” Dean asks.

“Whatever you find in the cupboard,” Aidan says nodding towards it. His eyes follow Dean across the room, waiting until he’s rooting around through the hangers before saying, “You know I feel like I should be offended by how eager you are to get out of here.”

Dean doesn’t answer immediately. He busies himself with picking out an adequate shirt. Aidan’s much bigger than him, both in height and across the chest. In the end he settles for a plain black t-shirt that doesn’t look like it will be too huge. The colour choice isn’t much of an option, Aidan’s wardrobe seems to consist mainly of shades of black and grey with the occasional flannel.

Dean’s number one rule is flashing on repeat in the back of his mind in blinding lights;  Never Sleep With Timers . “I’m sorry, I just… it was a one night thing. I mean, we knew that. You knew that, right?”

“Dean, relax,” Aidan says, laughing. “I was just joking.” He throws back the covers and swings his legs over the side of the bed then stands and stretches languidly and Dean can’t help but notice the way Aidan’s muscles pull taut over his ribs. “Let’s get some breakfast.”

* * *

 

Breakfast at Aidan’s turns out to be a full on buffet of breakfast food. There’s pancake mix - American and Crepes, oatmeal, soda bread, bacon and eggs, at least three different types of cereal and enough oranges and grapefruits to cater a small football team.

“I like breakfast food,” Aidan explains.

Dean opts for a small bowl of oatmeal and half a grapefruit. His stomach feels a little delicate. Aidan takes the other half and fries himself some eggs and bacon.There’s a certain nonchalance to the way they both move around the kitchen. Aidan, dressed only in his boxer briefs and a black vest, reaches around where Dean’s slicing the grapefruit to fetch the salt from an overhead cupboard. When he’s done, he hands the salt to Dean and Dean puts it away again.

“You sure you don’t want any?” Aidan asks, gesturing to the bacon and eggs. When Dean shakes his head Aidan shrugs and tosses a couple more rashers into the pan.

They sit opposite each other at the breakfast table as they eat. Aidan’s reading the back of a box of Frosties while he shovels bacon into his mouth with his fingers. Dean hollows out his half of the grapefruit, glancing occasionally up at Aidan but trying not to look like he’s staring. Every now and then he’ll catch a glimpse of the numbers on Aidan’s wrist as he lifts his hand to his mouth and he’ll look away again.

“So,” Aidan says licking bacon grease from his fingers. “That was some night wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Dean nods down into his grapefruit. “It was. Sorry I didn’t ah… return the favour.”

Aidan gives a noncommittal shrug and sets the cereal box on the table out the way. “There’s always next time,” he says, grinning.

Dean stays quiet because who said there was going to be a ‘next time’?

“I should probably get going… my housemate will be wondering where I am.”

“Is your housemate the one you were with last night?”

Dean nods. “Adam,” he says.

Aidan chews on a mouthful of egg, which he mercifully uses a fork for, then he says, “I can drive you back to yours if you want.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to. Plus the buses are shit around here.”

Dean stares at Aidan. “That’d be nice,” he says finally, smiling. “Thank you.”

Aidan shoves his plate with the remains of his bacon towards Dean and pushes away from the table. “Help yourself, I’ll just go put some jeans on.”

And Dean doesn’t mean to, but he can’t help watching Aidan’s ass as he walks away.

* * *

 

Adam’s sitting on the couch in his pyjamas eating a bowl of cereal when Dean steps through the front door.

“Oh good you’re not dead,” Adam says around a mouthful of milk and cornflake crumbs. “Thanks for letting me know you weren’t actually going to be home like you said you were.”

“Sorry,” Dean says. “You can call off the search party.” His reply is heavy with sarcasm because Adam looks anything but worried sitting there watching Saturday morning cartoons with slipper socks on.

“So where were you?” Adam mutes the volume on the television and pats a hand on the cushion next to him, gesturing for Dean to sit down. “And why are you wearing _another_ shirt? That’s not the one I got you at Richard’s.”

Dean can’t help it, a devilish smile grows as he flops down next to Adam, his head falling against the back of the couch. “You remember that check out guy last night?”

“Which one?”

“The one in Tesco’s… cute. Irish.”

“You didn’t.” Adam drops his spoon into his bowl with a splash of milk. “You dirty little stop out!”

Dean laughs abruptly. “He had a Timer too.”

“Dean!” Adam sounds positively scandalised and delighted. “I told you, it’s great, right? There’s no going back.”

“Well I’m not sure about that…” Dean mutters but Adam isn’t listening. He’s beaming from ear to ear and prodding Dean on the shoulder.

“It’s like you’re all grown up and playing with the Timers I’m so proud of you!”

“He had just over a year left…”

“So? What’s the problem it’s not like you’re going to see him again… you’re not going to see him again are you? Dean?” Adam’s prodding grows more forceful until it becomes painful and Dean grabs hold of his finger, twisting it away. “Dean tell me you’re not planning on seeing him again.”

“I don’t know… no. Probably not.” Dean sighs. The drive home had been… weird. But not weird in a bad way. He hadn’t felt like the guy coming home from a one night stand. There’d been that same sense of familiarity that his entire encounter with Aidan had been laced with. Talking to Aidan, it felt like he’d known him for years, like he would know him for years. It had just felt right.

When Aidan had pulled up outside Dean’s house he’d asked for Dean’s number. And Dean had given it to him readily.

“Dean the whole point of sleeping with Timers is to keep it light, you don’t stay in touch with them, that’s not keeping it light.”

“Ok…ok! I won’t see him again, Jesus,” Dean snaps with growing irritation. He feels the air change and immediately regrets it as Adam subtly shifts away from him and turns to look at the muted television. Dean shouldn’t be snapping at Adam. Adam’s right and i’s not his fault that Dean’s upset about this fact. “Hey,” Dean nudges Adam’s leg with his own. “So how did the party go after I left?”

“Fine,” Adam says shortly.

“Listen, you’re right, I shouldn’t see Aidan again.”

“I’m just looking out for you,” Adam says.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Ok.” Adam nudges him back and then smiles. “Ok so the party was pretty terrible. Jared had a word with that asshole that spilt his drink all over you though. That was pretty fun.”

“He did? What did he say?”

“Just told him to calm it down, the guy was way drunker than anyone else there it was embarrassing.” Adam shovels another mouthful of cereal into his mouth. “Oh! Guess what.”

“What?”

“I’ve got a date tonight,” Adam says, grinning.

“Who with?”

“That old guy at the supermarket. We’re going out for pasta. Don’t wait up.”

“Nice,” Dean laughs. He climbs to his feet and stretches with a bone cracking yawn. “I’m going to bed.”

“Didn’t get much sleep last night, huh?” Adam says lecherously.

“Gross,” Dean says. “Goodnight.”

“And get a shower, you stink of fruit punch and sex!”

“Goodnight, Adam,” Dean says more firmly.

Whatever retort Adam fires back is silenced by Dean shutting his bedroom door.

* * *

 

Two days later finds Dean sitting at his desk in work. He’s trying his best to concentrate, though his stomach is rumbling from too little food and too much coffee, when his phone rings. He feels a small jolt when he sees that it’s Aidan’s number on the caller ID. He’d been meaning to call him but had been stalling on the grounds that he has no idea what he’d say. Plus he’d kind of, sort of, maybe promised Adam that he wouldn’t. It looks like Aidan’s beating him to the punch.

“Hello Dean O’Gorman,” Aidan says when he answers.

“Are you always going to use my full name?”

“Why does it bother you?”

“It’s a little weird.”

Aidan laughs. “Sorry,” he says. “I like the way it sounds I guess. What’re you up to?”

“Work.”

“Yeah? Where do you work?”

“Jackson and Jackson Solicitors.”

“Oh you’re a lawyer type?”

“Kind of,” Dean sighs and rubs his temples. Work is generally his least favourite thing to talk about as in he’d literally rather talk about anything else. “What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to grab an early dinner.”

“I’m not…” Dean was about to say he wasn’t hungry but at the mention of food his stomach suddenly threatens to devour itself and grumbles furiously. “What time is it?”

“Almost four.”

Dean’s surprised by this, he’d been working so hard on trying to close his latest case he hadn’t even realised he’d worked the whole way through lunch. No wonder he’s feeling so famished. “You know what, sure, let’s grab some food.” He has time owing, he figures the practice can afford him taking one early finish. “Where were you thinking?”

“Where’s your office?”

“Oh you know, downtown.”

“Downtown where?”

“Just… downtown.”

“Christ. Ok. Meet me by that big statue of the dying lady. You know the one?”

“I know it yeah.”

“Alright then, Dean O’Gorman, I’ll see you soon,” Aidan says and Dean can hear the smile in his voice. It sounds nice, warm and comforting.

Aidan’s waiting for Dean just as he said he would when Dean reaches the statue ten minutes later. Dean’s not sure of the message behind the statue, he’s not even sure the lady’s meant to be dying but she looks like she is; dressed all in black and bent so far backwards on one leg that her fingers are almost clawing at the paving stones behind her. Her other leg sticks up into the air like a submarine periscope. She’d come to affectionately be known as ‘Dying Lady’ by everyone in the town.

“Looking good,” Aidan says with a cheeky grin, gesturing to Dean’s work slacks, shirt and tie. Dean hates wearing ties, he avoids wearing them at every opportunity but unfortunately at Jackson and Jackson Solicitors, it is not an option. Aidan is dressed much more casually in black jeans and one of the flannel shirts Dean recognises from when he’d raided Aidan’s closet.

“Oh hey I’ve got your shirt,” Dean says as he remembers and holds out the mentioned article for Aidan to take. Aidan does so, somewhat carelessly shoving a corner into his back pocket so it hangs out looking like some kind of black pocket handkerchief.

“Thanks,” Aidan says. “You left yours in my car but I forgot to bring it… I tried to wash it for you but it’s still kind of pink.”

“You washed it?” Dean says, not sure if he feels more surprised or touched.

“Yeah, I wash things sometimes. It’s crazy.”

“I thought that was why you mostly wore black, so you didn’t have to wash anything.”

“Wow,” Aidan says but he’s smiling. “Here I thought I’d invite you for a nice lunch, you know, a nice civilised deal where we can chat and get to know each other and then you come here, into my own city, and you insult me…”

“It’s my city too.”

“I don’t know,” Aidan sucks air through his teeth. “It might not be big enough for the both of us.”

“I guess one of us is going to have to leave,” Dean shrugs.

“Not me!” they say in unison.

“Shit,” Aidan shrugs. “Guess we’re both stuck here.”

“Thanks for trying to wash my shirt,” Dean says. “I mean you didn’t have to, that’s sweet.”

Aidan shrugs. “I had to do a load anyway. But like I said, it hasn’t done much. I think it’s kind of ruined.”

“Really?” Dean squints.

“I think it’s dead.”

“I loved that shirt.”

Aidan rests a hand on Dean’s shoulder and squeezes consolingly. “You’ll find another one.”

Dean looks down at Aidan’s warm hand on his shoulder. He catches sight of Aidan’s Timer, the green numbers peeking out from under his sleeve and Dean’s good mood crumbles.

“So…” he says, clearing his throat. “Lunch?”

“This way good sir,” Aidan turns and guides Dean onwards, his hand slowly dropping to his side. Either he hasn’t noticed or is ignoring Dean’s sudden change of mood. “How does Sushi grab you?”

Throughout the mea, Dean tries his best to shake himself out of his mood but it’s no good. As they sit in the restaurant watching the brightly coloured plates rotate round on the little conveyer belt his eyes drift continuously to Aidan’s Timer. He just can’t help himself. Those little numbers aren’t going to change no matter how much he might enjoy Aidan’s company. He can’t change fate, time isn’t going to change anything. In fact the more time he spends with Aidan, the worse this is going to get. 

“What?” Aidan asks while he concentrates on shelling an edamame bean.

“What?” 

“What’s on your mind? You’ve barely touched your sashimi, did you forget you’re allergic to seafood?”

Dean blinks down at his plate of tuna, busying himself with manipulating his chopsticks around a modest sized piece. 

“What’re we doing here?” he says, daring to glance up at Aidan.

Aidan takes a moment to respond and Dean can actually see him weighing up the pros and cons with continuing to play facetious. 

“We’re having fun, aren’t we?” Aidan says finally, apparently deciding to play it serious.

“What’s the point?”

“What do you mean?”

Dean takes the opportunity to shovel sashimi into his mouth and takes his time chewing it. He watches as Aidan picks slowly at the skin of the edamame bean.

“I mean what’s the point in this? It was just a one time thing, right? So why are we even here now?”

“I don’t know, I liked spending time with you. I thought it would be fun to spend more time with you, you know?” Aidan shrugs and gives a small smile. He pops a bean into his mouth. “Crazy concept, I know.”

“Don’t you find it weird?”

“What?” Aidan frowns, then he sighs and glances down at his wrist.

“This is because of the Timer, isn’t it?”

“Obviously, how could it not be about the Timer?”

“Look… my time’s not for ages anyway. I’ve got over a year, so much can happen in that time.”

“But your One’s still out there somewhere, how would you feel if they were with someone else right now too?” Dean’s beginning to grow annoyed with Aidan, it feels like he’s deliberately playing dumb when it’s just so obvious.

“I wouldn’t care?” Aidan shrugs. “Wait… you’re not one of these people that sees it as cheating are you?”

“No!” Dean snaps. “I mean not really… I don’t know.” He sighs and pushes a hand through his hair, trying to gather himself. “The point is,” he says keeping deliberately calm and cool. “Anything that may or may not happen with us wouldn’t last. It’s already got an expiration date so what’s the point?”

“Wow,” Aidan says. But he’s not looking like Dean expected him to look. Dean had thought maybe he’d be disappointed, even angry, but Aidan doesn’t look any of those things. He’s smiling, practically laughing. “Sorry, it’s just… expiration date? Like canned food?”

Dean scowls at him. “Shut up.”

“Sorry I can’t go out with you, your shelf life’s too short.”

“Stop making fun of me.” Dean feels painfully self conscious that they are in the middle of a restaurant. It’s quiet and no one is looking their way, but that doesn’t stop him being aware of just how public this setting is.

“I’m sorry,” Aidan says, suddenly serious. “I wasn’t laughing at you, I promise.”

Dean shrugs. He stabs a little viciously at his sashimi, not eating it, just mauling it into tiny slivers with his chopsticks.

“Dean,” Aidan says. He reaches across the table and touches Dean’s hand until he puts down the chopsticks. Then Aidan takes hold of Dean’s fingers, despite the slight resistance Dean puts up. “I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m sorry. This whole Timer thing… it’s not even a big deal for me. My parents made me get it when I was sixteen. I never wanted it and I’ve never paid attention to it not even when my countdown started.” He squeezes Dean’s fingers and they both look down at their Timers, Aidan’s numbers and Dean’s dashes. “It’s not important to me. My One might be out there, whatever. Maybe I’ll meet them one day—“

“You will,” Dean interrupts.

“Maybe I’ll meet them one day,” Aidan repeats pointedly. “Maybe I won’t. Honestly I wish I never even got the stupid thing… that’s not what it’s about for me.”

“What do you mean?” Dean frowns. Aidan’s Timer’s working, it’s counting down, no one regrets meeting their one, no one.

“All I care about is I’m having a lot of fun with you right now. I want to spend my time with you. I like you,” Aidan says. “Do you like me?”

Dean doesn’t answer right away. He looks at their hands intertwined on the table and then he looks up at Aidan. Aidan’s eyes are hazel. They’re warm and they’re open and Dean can’t see a hint of a lie in them.

“I do,” he admits, as much to himself as to Aidan.

Aidan smiles. “Good,” he says. “So can we forget the Timer thing? For now at least. I’ll wear a bandage on my wrist to stop you looking at it if I have to.”

And so they do. 

And for a time it’s good. 

They go for lunch and they meet each other for coffee. Sometimes Dean stays over at Aidan’s and sometimes Aidan stays over at Dean’s. The sex is good. It’s more than good. Once they get past that awkwardness of the first time and they learn each other’s bodies, it’s amazing. 

Some nights it’s not even about the sex, they just lie together and they talk. Honestly, those are Dean’s favourite moments. When they’re tangled together, fingers intertwined and with Aidan’s arms wrapped around Dean as he rests his head against Aidan’s bare shoulder. They talk about their childhoods, about their hopes and dreams, their deepest fears. Aidan already knows Dean’s, that he’s terrified he’s going to end up alone and unloved. Aidan doesn’t say a word as Dean tells him, he just holds him tightly and kisses Dean over and over until they fall asleep. Aidan tells Dean about how he’d been bullied in primary school. ‘Nothing serious’ he’d said. ‘Just dumb playground pranks. I got into a fight with the wrong kid and his two brothers had it in for me from then on. Used to wait outside the dinner hall to steal my lunch money.’ He’d shrugged and tried to laugh it off but Dean had kissed him until he’d stopped and just held him until he realised that it was ok to not be ok about it. Those were Dean’s favourite moments. Those were the most dangerous moments.

One afternoon, Dean’s at Aidan’s when he gets a call from Adam.

“Where are you?” Adam asks when Dean answers.

“Where do you think?” Dean hears Adam huff on the other end. Nothing’s been said between them, but he know Adam disapproves of the situation he has going on with Aidan. Adam’s never unpleasant to Aidan, but he’s certainly not as warm with him as he is with others.

“We’ve got a problem,” Adam says.

“What?”

“Steve’s here. I need reinforcements.”

“Shit…” Dean says. “How bad is he?”

“Kind of… he’s okayish… I don’t know, just get here.”

“I’ll be home in ten.”

“What’s wrong?” Aidan asks when Dean hangs up. They’re curled up on the sofa together, Dean nestled in between Aidan’s sprawled legs and he’d heard the majority of the conversation. “Do we not like Steve?”

“No, Steve’s a great guy… he’s the greatest guy, actually. It’s just he’s been going through some… stuff at the moment.” Dean scrubs his face with his hands and lets his head rest against Aidan’s chest, feeling Aidan’s heartbeat against the back of his head.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Hmm?”

“You said he’s going through stuff. What stuff?”

Dean had been hoping that if he’d played dumb long enough Aidan would just let it drop. That obviously isn’t going to be the case. He feels uncomfortable talking about this kind of thing with Aidan.

“Have you ever seen anyone’s Timer go blank?” he asks.

“I’ve heard of it but I’ve never seen it… that happened to Steve?”

Dean nods.

“Jesus,” Aidan breathes.

A Timer going blank means only one thing. Somewhere, somehow, their One has died. It’s a phenomena no one really knows how to deal with. The grieving process a person goes through when their Timer goes blank is real, they feel the loss like it’s a part of them, but they’ve never gotten a chance to meet the person that died. Whoever their One had been, their chance of finding them is lost forever. It’s mourning a face you’ll never get to see, losing a love you’ll never get to experience. Dean wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemy.

“He’s wanted his own space for a while,” Dean explains. “Kind of shut himself away. We’ve been checking up on him, just to make sure he’s been doing ok, but we’ve kind of been waiting for him to reach out to us again… I guess that time is now.”

“That’s rough,” Aidan says, rubbing his fingers absentmindedly over the back of Dean’s hand. “Poor Steve.”

“Yeah.”

“So now you’re gonna’ go give him moral support?”

“That’s the idea,” Dean says.

“Want one more for the party?”

“I don’t know…” Dean hesitates. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. Besides we’re not really going to be doing anything. Just getting drunk and playing Mario Kart probably.”

“No problem,” Aidan kisses the back of Dean’s shoulder as Dean climbs reluctantly to his feet. “I’ll give you a call later tonight, see how everything went.”

“That’d be good,” Dean says with a small smile. He leans down to kiss Aidan.

A few hours into Operation: Cheer Up Steve and Dean’s wishing he’d taken Aidan up on his offer. He feels guilty for even feeling that way, but it’s tough. He just has no idea what to say to Steve without making the guy feel worse. He doesn’t want to come off as overly sympathetic at risk of being patronising but he also doesn’t want to come off as callous either.

The only thing in his favour is that Adam seems equally flummoxed as to how to act and they settle for an unhappy medium of too much beer and concentrating on playing Mario Kart.

“So Adam told me you’ve been hanging out with this guy a lot,” Steve says as he swerves to hit an item box on the screen.

“He did?” Dean raises a brow at Adam.

“I just said that you were at Aidan’s” Adam shrugs, he jerks sideways on the couch as he tries to avoid a banana on screen like leaning over will aid in his steering and curses when he fails and goes spinning off the course.

“What’s he like?” Steve asks.

“He’s alright,” Dean shrugs. “You know, we have fun, it’s why I hang out with him.”

“Yeah?” Steve launches a blue shell and Dean swallows a curse because he’s in first. He waits for the inevitable explosion taking him from first to fourth as Adam and Steve and Donkey Kong speed past him. “I think it’s nice, you know? Good for you. It’s about time.”

“How do you mean?” Dean says somewhat hesitantly. They’re on their seventh beer by now. Dean can see the slightly intoxicated glaze to Steve’s eyes.

“I mean you’re a good guy, Dean. It’s about time you met your One.”

Dean keeps his attention locked firmly on the TV screen. Even still, he can feel Adam’s eyes dart furtively to him. The mood in the living room shifts imperceptibly and he feels his shoulders grow tense.

“He’s not my One,” Dean says softly as he deliberately tries to loosen his shoulders.

“He’s not?” Steve’s obvious surprise makes it worse.

“Nope,” Dean says popping the P. He’s missed about two turns on the course and now he’s coming in a solid twelfth place.

“Shit, man, I’m sorry… I guess I just misunderstood. I thought he was… I’m sorry man.”

“Steve,” Dean forces his most convincing smiles. “It’s cool, we’re just having fun.”

“Really?” Steve says. “Adam said you’ve been spending a lot of time with him.”

“Yup, just having a lot of fun.” Dean finishes the lap in last place and stands abruptly. “Who wants more beer?” He says as he heads for the kitchen, avoiding Adam’s gaze.

They carry on drinking and playing until the early hours of them morning when Steve finally crashes out on their couch. After supplying their friend with a blanket and pillow and bucket just in case he can’t make it to the bathroom in time, Dean finally has the luxury of settling down in the privacy of his own bed.

He mulls over what Steve had said. He can’t help but let it send him into a spiral of angst and self pity. His brooding is made even worse by the guilt of knowing no matter how miserable he feels right now, it’s nothing compared to what Steve must be going through. Tonight shouldn’t be about him and his own problems. It’s about Steve and that horrible faded mark on his wrist where his Timer used to be.

Dean had asked Steve what he wanted to do about it, or rather he’d tiptoed around the subject in what he’d hoped was a delicate fashion. Steve had told him he’d thought about it a lot, whether he was going to get it removed. He probably would one day, but right now he couldn’t bring himself to. It would be too much like erasing them completely. Steve had said that that was the last thing he wanted to do, even though he’d never actually gotten the chance to meet them.

Dean’s brooding is interrupted by the vibrating of his phone. It’s Aidan. He’d tried to call earlier in the night and Dean had told him to try again later if he was still up. In his dark mood Dean’s almost tempted not to answer and to just let it ring out, but then he doesn’t much like the thought of going to bed feeling like he’s feeling now.

“Hey,” he says, answering the call.

“Hey,” Aidan’s voice replies and a familiar warmth spread through Dean just hearing his voice. “I didn’t wake you did I?”

“Nah,” Dean says. He blinks up at the ceiling and realises that the room is spinning just a little. “I’m kind of drunk,” he confides quietly.

“Only kind of?” Aidan chuckles. “That’s disappointing. So how was Mario Kart?”

“Terrible,” Dean says. “I came last. I hate losing.”

“I know.” A comfortable silence lulls between them. “How’s Steve?” Aidan asks.

“I’m not sure,” Dean replies honestly. “He seems ok I guess, but I don’t think he is really. He can’t be.”

“No I guess not,” Aidan says. “Must be tough…”

“What would you even do?” Dean wonders aloud. It’s something he’s mulled over again and again in the past. For a while he’d been convinced that maybe that was what had happened to his Timer, that his One had died in childhood and that was why it has never activated. But something in his gut tells him that that isn’t the case. For one his dashes are still bright, not that horrible faded green that Steve’s had been. “How would you cope with losing your One before you even met them?”

“I don’t know.” Aidan’s voice sounds quiet and not just because of the early hours. “I mean which is worse… that or spending half your life with someone and then losing them? Art least this way nothing much will change…. he’s not losing anything from his life now.”

“But he is,” Dean insists. “The future he had is gone now… any potential memories he had with that person. They’re gone.”

“Doesn’t mean he won’t find someone else to make memories with.”

“But it won’t be the same.”

Aidan’s quiet for a long while but Dean can hear him breathing. Dean’s drunk and he’s not sure what he said but he gets the distinct impression that he’s said something very wrong.

“You really believe that, don’t you?” Aidan says finally.

“I guess…” Dean feels uncertain now. He doesn’t want to make Aidan unhappy and he’s reluctant to say any more in case he makes it worse. He wants to change the subject to something lighter, he wants to hear Aidan happy again. “Hey,” Dean says. “Guess what.”

“What?”

“You’re a pretty fun guy.”

“You are too.”

“Like a mushroom. A funghi.”

“Dean,” Aidan says. “Jesus.” Dean hears Aidan give a short, reluctant laugh, and he smiles. Success, he thinks.

“I like you a lot,” Dean says.

“I like you too,” Aidan replies softly. “I really do.”

“A lot.”

“Really.” Another quiet lull of them just listening to each other breathing.

“Hey,” Aidan says finally. “You should get some sleep.”

“You should too.”

“Yeah.”

“I wish you were here.” Dean closes his eyes and breathes in deeply.

“Yeah,” Aidan says. “I do too.”


End file.
